Bussing it in Laos

It was about two hours into the drive, as the rain was setting in and it was getting dark, that I remembered Ollie's warning, "Molly, Laos is one of the most dangerous countries for bus travel. Don't travel on the local bus. Don't travel in the dark or in the rain." Oh shit.

So there I was, stuck in this apparent death trap. Tom, my traveling companion, is comatose at my side and I am preparing for death. When we finally arrived in Veng Vieng, I was surprised to be in one piece.

Now, this bus wasn't the worst thing I've ever seen. I mean, it looked good enough when we boarded at 3 p.m. Saturday afternoon. Sure, some of the windows were held together with duct tape. And yes, some seats weren't exactly upholstered, per sey. And, ok, it had seen better days. But I figured that being the only Westerners on the bus made us more local.

Nope, just stupid.

But we were fortified with baked goods and and Irish coffees, so nothing could get to us... even good judgement.

I was kind of "over" this bus thing when the chickens got on board. We stopped for about half an hour so people could load a dozen crates of hens and half a dozen crates of roosters on the roof of our beloved bus. At that point I was falling asleep, with my arm out the window, letting the drizzle cool me down in the Laotian humidity.

Well, after a bump in the road, I woke up with an arm covered in rooster poop. God, this bus ride isn't worth the money saved on a regular bus. But, the joke is on you, chickens. I'm going to eat you and your family for dinner.

So, like all my near-death experiences, I always think, "Hey, at least you got a blog post out of it."